Presidential Plans
by elfin2
Summary: Miniseries. Years later, another generation is growing up and taking over. I hope it's not too cliched.
1. The President of the New Colonies

Chapter 1: The President of the New Colonies  
  
President Kennedy Youngman of the New Colonies of Kobol was working late, which wasn't unusual for him. Being a good leader is time-intensive. He was just finished and about ready to go to bed when his personal assistant came in hesitantly.  
  
"I'm sorry to interrupt, sir," she said.   
  
"No, it's alright. Shouldn't you have gone home already?"  
  
"I just got a call from Capron Hospital," she said. "Harry Damian died an hour ago."  
  
"Crud." Kennedy Youngman saved stronger words for worse occasions. "Has anyone told his wife?"  
  
"Yes, sir. She was there when it happened. He had a heart attack at dinner and was rushed there, but they couldn't do anything. The doctors are calling his children right now, and the press secretary is going to announce it in the morning."  
  
"A well-oiled machine, huh?" He reflected for a moment on the jumble that usually was his government. "What about Richard Jachtian? Has he been told?"  
  
"No, sir."  
  
"Get him on the phone. He'll need to know he's the new chief of staff." He sat back, rubbing his forehead. "Get me that list."  
  
"Which list, sir?" She was already working the phone.   
  
"The list I made after the election. Wild-card candidates."  
  
"Right, sir. You don't intend to keep Jachtian?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"It's him, sir."  
  
Youngman took the proffered phone and passed the news along. "Come to my office tomorrow at seven. We need to get organised." After a few more quick questions he hung up. "Margaret? Please arrange for someone to help Harry's secretary. She'll have her hands full. Send my condolences to the family and make sure I have time in my schedule for the funeral."  
  
"Yes, sir." She jotted down a note. "Are you staying here much longer?"  
  
He shook his head. "I'll just stretch my legs a bit before going to bed. I've got an early start in the morning. Set my wake-up call for six-thirty, and make sure they don't serve up that damned oatmeal. One more bowl of that stuff and I'll go on a starvation diet in protest."  
  
"Duly noted, sir. Goodnight."  
  
He walked down the corridors of power, a dingy block of offices and meeting rooms that was still yards above what most of the human race put up with. It looked bad by day, bustling with activity; by night it was a pathetic statement of defeat and concealment. A few lights were on, people working late, mostly security guards or a few essential night staff.  
  
A light was still shining under the door of the secretary of state. He knocked at the door. 


	2. Don't get me started

Chapter 2: Don't get me started  
  
  
  
"But you brought them all back in one piece?" Kara Thrace was saying.  
  
"Yes, ma'am," for a moment her companion affected the air of a rural but officious cadet. After a moment she grinned. "The Chief was incredibly pissed about what I'd done to my bird, but there was nothing he could really do. I took the damage saving my squadron from an attack of angry meteorites. What can I say?"  
  
"You know, in all my military career, I don't think I ever racked up quite such a stupid excuse for damaging a bird," Once-Captain Thrace remarked.  
  
"Don't get me started, Grandma Kara," Sharyn Adama retorted. "I can go all night about the stupid things you've done, in and out of the cockpit. Starting with punching the XO of your ship out - and didn't you once lay the President out in the middle of a cabinet meeting?"  
  
"He was my husband, Sharyn."  
  
"Yes. He was also the President, and assaulting him was treason."   
  
"Like he was going to press charges?" Kara grumped, taking a gulp of bitter liquor. It was distilled something-or-other, and not too bad. It had a good bite. Sharyn grinned and sipped her own mug.  
  
A knock sounded.  
  
"Who is it?" Kara asked.  
  
"It's just me," Youngman stuck his head around the door.  
  
"Then I'm not sure 'just' is the appropriate term," she smiled.  
  
"Of course it is," Sharyn said. "I mean, it's not like the President is anyone important."  
  
"Where were you when I needed a wife, Sharyn?" he asked.  
  
"Probably in my cradle, sir," she retorted briskly. "Been making my grandmother's life difficult, have you?"  
  
"I've certainly been trying."  
  
"Is something wrong?"  
  
"No, I was just stretching my legs," he turned to Kara. "Harry Damian died."  
  
"When?"  
  
"About an hour ago."  
  
"Frak," she said after a moment and gulped her drink. "Does Jachtian know?"  
  
"I just called him. He doesn't want the job."  
  
"How bad, doesn't want the job?"  
  
"He says he'll resign if I promote him. He can't handle the job and he knows it."  
  
"He's afraid to try," Sharyn said.   
  
"Yes, but he knows he can't handle it," Kara said.  
  
"And this with the vote on the education reforms coming up," Sharyn noted. "How bad's the count?"  
  
"Bad," Youngman said. "Is this off the record?"  
  
"I don't spill political secrets," Sharyn said. "Never have. It's too much fun knowing them."  
  
"You have a sick twisted mind. And quite a bit. To get those reforms passed would mean juggling the budget again and cutting money out of the funding for new mines."  
  
"Ouch," Sharyn said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her feet on her grandmother's desk. She had inherited the Thrace contempt for ceremony. "Which mines are taking the biggest cuts?"  
  
"Camperdown, Essellheim, Vahntoran and Essillee," Kara said promptly.  
  
"Well, Camperdown can make that back by sinking the new shaft they've been talking about, Essellheim will have lower overheads this coming fiscal year because they've finally got the drainage set up so they don't need the shaft pumps any more and Essillee - um." She frowned. "Vahntoran has that refinery that works at less than fifty percent capacity."  
  
"Right."  
  
"Yes, and they've been having trouble with that because Vahntoran was supposed to be more productive."  
  
"Right, so Essillee is just the next valley over, and they're the same ore type. Right now Essillee is sending ore by ship to a refinery in Guavarre Bay, one that's owned by the Mitchell Consortium."  
  
"Which hates me."  
  
"Right. So swap refineries, and that'll balance the budgets at both of those mines plus costing the Mitchell people a hefty chunk of income. They hate you anyway, so you've nothing to lose. And since you'll have to construct a better road in and out of the Jawurgen Hills to transport the ore anyway, you'll be very popular with the farmers in the area who have always been politically neutral."  
  
Kara blinked. "What she said," she managed weakly.  
  
"Nice idea. Thanks, Sharyn. Where'd you learn all that stuff."  
  
"Grandpa set those mines up, remember? When he had your job? I helped with the paperwork."  
  
"You could be a brilliant politician. Why do you want to be a fighter pilot instead? The daily risk of death, tightly regimented life, things always going wrong and being accused of doing no real work most of the time…"  
  
"Oh, so you've been a politician, have you?" She answered instantly and with evident amusement.  
  
"How long are you here for?"  
  
"I'm on leave for three weeks. Just finished my tour on the Nogales."   
  
"That's good. Congrats on your promotion."  
  
"Not bad, eh? Captain at my age?"  
  
"Lee managed it. Ow!" Kara rubbed an abused arm. "That hurt!"  
  
"He was twenty-seven."  
  
"And you're, what…"  
  
"Twenty-two. I got to skip half of high school and the officers training program, remember?"  
  
"Yes, the fast-track scholarship program. You did well."  
  
"I worked bloody hard," she said. "Look, if you don't need my grandmother to help with the Damian-Jachtian problem, we'll go home. If we stay here she'll just start working again." 


	3. I'm getting old, Sharyn

Chapter 3: I'm getting old, Sharyn  
  
Kara Thrace smiled at Sharyn working out in her living room, having made space, and was using her coffee-table to rest her feet on while she did push-ups. It was so like herself in the brig it wasn't funny. "Morning," she said.  
  
"Morning," Sharyn gasped, long hair swinging. Sharyn had decided to ignore the Adama look of a close clip and grow her hair to hang to her hips, then just recently changed it from a dull dun colour to a brilliant synthetic red. It looked good on her.   
  
"Want some coffee?"  
  
"Don't have your tolerance, Grandma. You know it's rationed in the military." She kept pumping evenly. "You still working out?"  
  
"Did that yesterday. My knee's giving my trouble again. I was going to go running after lunch today."  
  
"You're getting soft, Grandma."  
  
"I'm getting old, Sharyn. I can't help it."  
  
Sharyn stopped and got up. "I know," she said softly. "I know, Grandma. I don't want to lose you, too. Ever."  
  
"You will, Sharyn, unless you get shot down. I know how you feel. I remember what it was like when Lee died."  
  
"I know," she said, sitting down and reaching for a towel. "I tried hard to help."  
  
"You did help. But I lost my husband, Sharyn. Do you have any idea how much that hurts?"  
  
"No, Grandma, I don't. Dating isn't really a part of my life."  
  
"It should be."  
  
"Don't start, Grandma."  
  
"I'm just saying…"  
  
"Grandma, I don't want to talk about this."  
  
"But you…"  
  
"I don't want to fight with you." 


	4. Why did I take this job?

Chapter 4: Why did I take this job?  
  
"Hey, you got a minute?" Kara looked up from her computer. It was Youngman. "I'm putting through Sharyn's suggestion on the mines. I want to ask a favour."  
  
"Name it," Kara said, drawing her hands back. Youngman had been under no obligations to let her keep her job after the last election, but he had. Whether she liked it or not, she owed him.  
  
"I want her to come back tonight. Talk to Jachtian."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Humour me. Eight o'clock."  
  
"I'll ask her."  
  
"You can't tell her?"  
  
"She'd tell me to go to hell."  
  
"She's like you."  
  
"She's worse than I am. She's young."  
  
"I know."  
  
"You know that and you still want her there? Ken, she's liable to start dictating policy right there in your office."  
  
"Good. I could do with a laugh."  
  
"What was that about?" Kara's assistant, an absurdly young man in a suit, asked as he started at the President's retreating back.  
  
"I have no idea."  
  
"What does he want?"  
  
"I have no idea."  
  
"Kara…"  
  
"I have no idea." She walked out. "I need the report on the Fleet retrofitting of the landing bays and the information on Secretary Vsevolod's campaign plan for the next election. And don't tell me you can't get it!"  
  
"Was she always such an arsehole?" he asked one of the older staff.  
  
The old man snorted. "She used to be worse. Like, way worse. She's mellowed a lot. Age, marriage, kids and being the First Lady will do that to you."  
  
"She laid the President out and she's mellow?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Oh. Why did I take this job?"  
  
"You're asking me?" 


	5. Get real, Grandma

Chapter 5: Get real, Grandma

Kara looked around her small elegant house. New Kobol, one of three colony worlds, was the most refined of the three; it was still a raw rough frontier even in the capital city of Sagittar with all of ten thousand people. Her house had one bedroom and a loft, and had a few pieces of solid wooden furniture. It was decorated with cream rugs and blankets and a painting of Caprica City done by one of her children. There were few signs of twelve years as a fighter pilot, more years as the First Lady, five kids and years of politicking. On the mantelpiece, a picture of herself and Zack, with Lee standing off to one side, was her only reminder of that part of her life left visible.  
"Sharyn? You home"  
"Yes, around the corner," she was hidden by the wall. She had her feet on the coffee-table and her hands on the floor, doing push-ups.  
"Having fun"  
"Not particularly," she gasped. "Just keeping in shape"  
"I used to do that in the brig, on the bed"  
"Never been in a brig"  
"I know. It's unwholesome"  
"Get real, Grandma." She kept going, steadily, timing her breathing, until her arms were rubbery and her shoulders were on fire. "How was your day? Did your meeting go okay"  
"That man is even thicker-headed than your grandfather. He just won't admit education matters"  
"Yes, but you could talk Grandpa round in a lot of ways. You want to go for a run"  
"It'd better be a quick one. I've got to eat and get back to work"  
"You could have just had dinner in your office"  
"The President wants to see you"  
Sharyn looked up, but she didn't stop drying herself with a towel. "Why?" "I don't know. He wants to see you in a couple of hours"  
"Alright. Should I dress up"  
"I never bother"  
"I meant, should I wear a uniform"  
"Your call"  
"Gee, thanks. I'll take that run, though. I need to stretch my legs"  
"I'll try to get a day off, we can go up to Excelsior Hill and do the lake loop track"  
"That'd be good. I'll leave you in the dust"  
"Dream on, kid." 


End file.
